


An Extension of His Will

by heeroluva



Category: Original Work
Genre: Assassination Attempt(s), Exhibitionism, Loyalty, M/M, Minor Character Death, Power Imbalance, Sibling Incest, Trust Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-23
Updated: 2016-10-23
Packaged: 2018-08-22 20:53:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8300638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heeroluva/pseuds/heeroluva
Summary: Zevahin was certain that this wasn’t the type of relationship his father had in mind for them, wasn’t how he’d meant Zevahin to use Cari as “an extension of his will”, but at the scrape of Cari’s teeth along his jaw, the drag of his clothing along sensitive skin, Zevahin couldn’t find it in himself to care that this was supposed to be wrong.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thegreatpumpkin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegreatpumpkin/gifts).



Prince Zevahin Triste Di Casimir, first in line for the throne, rose from the depths of his bathing pool, pushing the sopping length of his black hair back from his face. Choosing to forgo the towels placed within convenient reach, rivulets of water slid down his bronze skin, leaving a trail of water behind him as he crossed the room to his closet.

Zevahin didn’t have to look to feel the heat of his guard’s gaze along the length of his body. Tugging a thin white robe off its hook, Zevahin shrugged it on, knowing that the material went nearly transparent when it met his wet skin. Glancing over at Cari Drakon, Zevahin could not help but smirk. Cari’s face was carefully blank, but his eyes spoke of hunger.

Crossing to his desk, Zevahin made a show of pulling up his display and checking his email, but really his thoughts were on the man across the room from him, a man that had already saved his life multiple times in the month that he’d had been assigned as Zevahin’s personal guard. Cari Drakon was not only a highly decorated soldier and war hero—a fact that brought no shortage of rumors as to why such a skilled man would “settle” for a position such as this, despite the fact that it was Cari who had put his name in for consideration for the role—but also Zevahin’s older, bastard half-brother, the product of his father’s dalliance with a maid a number of years before his marriage to Zevahin’s mother.

The timing was slightly suspicious: his father the emperor had fallen ill, age and a life of overindulging having finally caught up with him, and Zevahin’s own personal guard had attempted to kill him. Through the most secure of channels a call had gone out to the military for skilled guards. Among those that had volunteered was Cari, a name that Zevahin recognized instantly. There were few who didn’t know the man that had nearly single-handedly saved a city of thousands.

But it had been Zevahin’s father’s reaction to the file that had been strange.

Finally after staring at the picture for long minutes, his father had turned tired eyes to Zevahin and had said, “I shouldn’t have kept this from you for so long, but given recent events, I can no longer stay silent. Cari Drakon is my bastard, your older brother.”

To say that Zevahin had been shocked was a gross understatement, but he hadn’t let himself dwell on that at the time. “Does he know his paternity? Does he have aspirations for the throne?”

With a tired sigh, his father had said, “I did not forbid his mother from sharing the circumstances regarding his birth from him, and I’d be truly shocked if she had not told him. By all appearances, he seems to be fiercely loyal to the Empire. While there are a number of insubordination reports in his file, all appear to be against unethical orders that would have resulted in unnecessary deaths.”

“And you think we should bring him here?!” Zevahin couldn’t keep the disbelief from his voice.

“By all accounts, he is the best of the best. He is an asset that we should not ignore.”

“And well loved by the people. If word of who he is were ever to get out, there would be many who would see him on the throne in my place.”

“The people do not know you as they know him. Use that love to your advantage. It would do you well to create an image where he is an extension of your will. Let the people see you together.”

Suspicion had risen in Zevahin. “You speak as though _you_ would see him on the throne.”

“No,” his father had denied. “More than anything, my hope is that you find happiness and that the Empire continues to prosper under your rule. However, it would be wasteful to ignore such a resource.”

With that it was decided, and not even a month later, Zevahin had met his older brother for the first time.

Drawn back to the present, not for the first time Zevahin found himself studying Cari’s face, looking for similarities, for any hint of his paternity that could be used against him. His lighter skin and curls came from his mother, but Cari’s green eyes were certainly from their father. Green eyes were not exceedingly rare, but certainly uncommon. Zevahin could count on two hands the number of people he’s met in his lifetime outside of the royal family who had green eyes. The red hair and freckles were a bit harder to place, but research found that his great, great grandmother had had both. All in all, it made for a striking combination.

Maybe there was a bit of a similarity in the sharp edges of their cheekbones or the lines of their jaw, but it was not enough to draw suspicion.

At first Cari had been everything that Zevahin had expected him to be, a stickler for the rules, stick up the ass military sort, and Zevahin had taken great pleasure in pushing him, teasing him, stripping naked before him in an attempt to get a rise from him. At first Cari hadn’t reacted, but as the days went by, slowly Cari’s gaze had lingered longer than was appropriate, until finally he didn’t even bother to look away, his gaze daring Zevahin to say anything. And somehow Zevahin had been caught in his own trap, the teasing stopped being merely playful, but felt like it had a purpose, and the fact that this was his _brother_ somehow making it all the more appealing rather than less.

Zevahin didn’t think twice about it when Mattis—his long-time personal servant—entered with his lunch. As the tray was set down before him, Zevahin didn’t notice when Mattis didn’t retrace his steps as was customary and instead circled behind Zevahin’s seated form.

“Get down!” Cari shouted.

Throwing himself to the side, Zevahin hit the floor, heart racing as the sound of a gunshot and metal clattering against the floor echoed in the room. Turning his head, Zevahin took in the lifeless form of a man he had trusted for nearly as long as he could remember before his eyes finally settled on the thin blade on the floor at his side, noting the fluid sheen on it, that it was likely poisoned.

In the short month that Cari had been here, this was already the third time that he had saved Zevahin’s life. That it was always people Zevahin had trusted caused his gut to twist unpleasantly. When Cari offered his hand to help him up, Zevahin pushed it aside as he climbed to his feet on his own. “Don’t touch me,” he hissed as he fisted his shaking hands behind his back, hating the show of weakness in himself. Because it was how he was raised, because it had saved his life on more than one occasion, Zevahin couldn’t help the nearly instinctive suspicion that was his constant companion. 

Zevahin watched as Cari bent to pick up the blade before turning, and much to Zevahin’s shock, Cari sank to his knees before Zevahin.

Offering the blade to Zevahin, Cari bared his neck as he said, “I want nothing more than to protect you, and still you look upon me with suspicion and distrust. My life is yours. Do with it as you see fit.”

With still shaking fingers, Zevahin reached out and curled his fist around the hilt of the blade. If Cari desired to kill him, he could have done so more times than Zevahin could count, could have let any of the assassins kill him instead of dirtying his hands, yet here he knelt in front of Zevahin, awaiting whatever fate Zevahin decided.

Looking between the blade and Cari, Zevahin slowly set the blade down on the desk, a clearly dismissive gesture.

Cari’s impassive mask broke when Zevahin sank to his knees in front of him, Zevahin reaching up to cup Cari’s stubble covered jaw. “We’re both fools.” A smirk stretched across Zevahin’s face suddenly, and he leaned forward to whisper in Cari’s ear. “Brother.”

When Zevahin’s lips pressed against Cari’s, Cari remained frozen with shock for a long moment before a groan escaped from deep in his chest, and he opened his mouth to Zevahin’s advances, letting himself be devoured as his arms rose to pull him closer while at the same time pushing at the flimsy robe that covered his form.

A glance at the body still on floor beside them had Cari pausing long enough that Zevahin pulled back to see what had captured his attention.

Gaze locked on Mattis’ still face, the pain of betrayal hit Zevahin hard. It was far too much of a childish thing to do, completely unbecoming of a person of his stature, but Zevahin buried his face in Cari’s neck, blocking out the world. “Brother,” he whispered again, a prayer or a plea he wasn’t sure.

Cari shuddered at the word. “My prince?”

“Take me away,” Zevahin said. It felt a lot like running, but he didn’t care as Cari put his hands under his thighs, encouraging Zevahin to wrap his legs around Cari’s waist. Zevahin might not have had the muscles that Cari did, not even during the required four years he’d spent in the military, but he was still lithe and far from light, yet Cari lifted him as though he weighed nothing.

Cari took him through the door that separated his small set of rooms from Zevahin’s own. Cari sat on the edge of the bed, Zevahin still in his lap.

Zevahin pulled back slightly, watching the way that Cari’s eyes darkened, the way his gaze dropped to the nipple peeking out from Zevahin’s loosened robe.

“We shouldn’t do this,” Cari said, but he didn’t look away, didn’t push Zevahin away, instead raising his hand to fist in the length of Zevahin’s hair, pulling his head to the side before dropping his head to lick the length of his neck. “I’ve dreamt of this, tearing this sham of a robe off you, of the taste and feel of you. It’s wrong, but Maker help me, I don’t care.”

“What’s stopping you?” Zevahin asked, a clear challenge.

Cari’s eyes went darker still as he twisted them suddenly so that Zevahin was on his back, hands ripping at the robes, leaving red marks on Zevahin’s body from the friction.

Zevahin was certain that this wasn’t the type of relationship their father had in mind for them, wasn’t how he’d meant Zevahin to use Cari as “an extension of his will”, but at the scrape of Cari’s teeth along his jaw, the drag of his clothing along sensitive skin, Zevahin couldn’t find it in himself to care that this was supposed to be wrong.


End file.
